


Gryffindor Colours

by teprometo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Gift Fic, Humor, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-13
Updated: 2008-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco tries everything to gain Harry’s approval. Harry discovers a way to make Draco reconsider.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gryffindor Colours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zeto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeto/gifts).



> This fic is for [Zeto](http://zeto.livejournal.com/), who contributed to [hpequality](http://hpequality.livejournal.com/) on LiveJournal. She wanted a nice PG-13ish 1,000 word H/D fic in which the boys chase each other around and Draco has something of a tie fetish. I totally failed at the length.

Draco could pinpoint the exact moment when he had realised he had a crush on Harry Potter, though he could not estimate when it had begun. Draco was on the verge of dying, he had been sure of it, when Harry hoisted him from the flames. When they had escaped into the hallway of the war-riddled school, he had been rent immobile. He sat there on the floor staring at his saviour in shock and in love. The boy he had tormented for years had the strength of character to risk his own life to save the life of his Death Eater rival. If that was not admirable, Draco did not know what was.

The second time Harry saved his life that night, Draco stared at the place the invisible boy stood, beaming at him with gratitude and smittenness. Weasley had punched him in the face for it. No matter. Draco instantly decided that Harry would be his someday. He would repay the double life debt with years of debauchery and affection.

The first thing Draco tried was flowers. A week after the war ended, he stood perched outside the door of Harry’s flat, daffodils and roses in hand because he thought the Gryffindor colours would be appreciated. Cheesy grin in place, he waited for the Boy Who Lived to welcome him into his home. What he got was a Stupefy and a free trip to the Ministry of Magic for questioning. When no evidence against him was found, Draco was released with a strong recommendation to visit St. Mungo’s for a mental evaluation.

Draco had been puzzled by the immediate response. Flowers were innocent. Everyone liked flowers, didn’t they? Next time he’d try kittens.

Draco spent months using misguided ploys to get Harry to see that he had changed and that he wanted to make amends (and more). He tried candy, scented letters, and even sent a receipt for his donation to the Mudblood Appreciation Society. Later he had tried to explain that he hadn’t known MAS was actually a fetish society for Purebloods with an appetite for dirty things. In retrospect, he mused that “Muggleborn” would have probably been the appropriate term, but in his frenzy to make Harry approve of him, he’d overlooked that small detail.

Every time Draco did something thoughtful for Harry, it was regarded with distrust and disdain. Harry was not interested in forgiveness, and certainly not in love.

By the end, kittens did not seem like such a bad idea. In fact he brought Harry a black Scottish Fold, only a few weeks old, which had a tiny white splotch on its little forehead. He Summoned a small red and gold pet bed and kitty food and made an invisible barrier that the kitten would not be able to cross until Harry picked him up. He left a note with the purring package:

_Harry,_

_I recently acquired this creature. The marking on its forehead reminded me of you. I thought it fitting you should have it. You can name him after me, if you like._

_With love,  
Draco Malfoy_

The next day, he had received an owl from Harry:

_Malfoy,_

_I thought we’d gotten a bit old for random acts of teasing. I’m well aware that I’ve got a scar. You can keep the cat. Name it Scarhead after me. That was one of your endearing nicknames, yeah?_

_Out of curiosity, what was in those flowers? The candy? All of the other great trinkets you’ve left for me? No one at the Ministry was able to trace any dark magic. Of course you won’t tell me. A Malfoy never reveals his secrets. Unless they’re successful, and then he loves to brag about them._

_Nevertheless, I would appreciate no future pranks from you._

_The war is over. You lost._

_Harry_

Draco had been upset by the letter but still stopped by Harry’s place the following week to take back the kitten he had spent hours searching for. He had wanted the perfect one to give to Harry, but clearly his efforts were not appreciated.

Harry answered the door with wand raised. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here again, Malfoy?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Bollocks, Harry, I’m not going to attack you.”

Harry looked sceptical but lowered his wand a margin. “Why are you here then?”

“To get the cat back. You said in your letter that you didn’t want him. So I’m here to take him off your hands,” Draco said impatiently.

“Oh. Well, er, he’s actually gotten pretty comfortable here and, well, that’s not to say you can’t have him back, but, er, it just might be a big change for him, is all…” Harry trailed off. He had clearly expected a confrontation and had gotten a cranky and indifferent Malfoy instead.

“Listen, Potter,” Draco reverted to the use of surname very intentionally, “I’m not here to listen to you babble all day. If you don’t want the creature, hand him over. If you’re getting on well, then you may keep him. He was a gift, after all.”

Harry knew he was not the most sensitive person in the world, but he could see the underlying hurt feelings in what Draco said and was shocked into silence. Malfoys didn’t have feelings, did they? Everything was done for some ulterior motive. But Harry could not deny the evidence in front of him. Draco was there, not quite looking him in the eye, arms crossed over his chest, a delicate flush on his cheeks. Harry couldn’t figure out why, but the hint of pink staining Draco’s smooth white skin was unnaturally enticing.

Draco took Harry’s silence as yet another rebuff and turned to walk away. He took a few steps and then turned, surprised to see Harry staring at him dumbly from the doorway. “Regarding your letter… My father lost the war, Potter,” Draco said. “I won.”

Draco turned again and kept walking. When a sufficiently dramatic amount of time had passed, he said over his shoulder, “I always win.”

Harry wasn’t sure why he never told Draco to wait, to come back. For the first time in his life, he wanted to know what the other man had to say, and he was completely confounded. Harry stood in the doorway staring at the place where Draco had disappeared for longer than was appropriate and only came to his senses when the black kitten prowled over and mewled up at him.

Harry got to his knees and petted the kitten. “Did you want to go back with him?” The animal only responded with aggressive purring. “I guess you’re happy enough here. Should I apologise to him? Tell me what to do, Drake.”

Drake mewed.

Harry took that as a yes.

***

_Malfoy,_

_Listen, I really am sorry for assuming you were out to get me. War paranoia and all. I don’t think you’re a bad guy or whatever._

_That offer for tea at my place still stands. You can stop by any time._

_The cat is getting so big now. He loves climbing the drapes, getting stuck at the top and crying for help. I think it’s his favourite game. You should come see him before he stops playing._

_Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon._

_All the best,  
Harry_

Draco scoffed humourlessly as he neatly folded the letter and placed it in the drawer with all of the other letters from Harry. He’d been sending them for a month now, and Draco had to hand it to him, the man was persistent. The letters started out tentative and only mildly apologetic, but as Draco continued refusing to answer, they had gained an edge of desperation. This pleased Draco. He decided to finally respond, out of kindness, of course, since he’d left the poor man hanging for weeks.

_Piss off, Potter._

_Best,  
D Malfoy_

Draco smirked to himself, satisfied with the lofty sarcasm. Within the hour he received another letter from Harry, which made him even more self-satisfied. Until he read it.

_Malfoy,_

_I’ve tried reasoning with you, tried being cordial, but enough is enough._

_If you want to settle this, then let’s settle it._

_Duel, my place, ten o’clock, no seconds._

_If you don’t come, I’ll know you’re too much of a coward to face me. I don’t blame you. I did, after all, defeat Lord Voldemort, whose mark you wear._

_And since this is really a school rivalry, let’s settle it the right way. Come in your school robes._

_Harry_

Had Draco not been so blinded by anger and unrequited desire, he would have been very suspicious of this letter. The complete 180° and the peculiar request for him to wear his school robes would have seemed a bit unexpected, even from Harry Potter. The letter was beautifully crafted, though. Top Slytherin work. It preyed on typical Malfoy weakness: pride.

Draco paced back and forth in his room until it was time to Apparate to Harry’s flat. Impeccably groomed as usual and wand in hand, Draco announced his presence by bursting uninvited through Harry’s door. He idly thought to himself that someone with so many enemies should have more protection spells.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Harry appeared to have been ready for him. Draco cursed his over-confidence. Harry smirked and pocketed Draco’s wand and, to Draco’s surprise, his own.

“Dispelling of your weapon, Potter? I thought this was a duel. Do you mean to do this the Muggle way?” Draco tried to keep a strong edge in his voice, but found himself distracted by the view of Harry in his school robes. How had he gone seven years without realising how delectable that sight was?

“Actually, Malfoy, that’s exactly what I intend. Something about the physicality of it just seems… enticing.” Harry’s eyes had a hint of darkness and Draco nearly shivered with the implication in those words.

“Like it rough, then, eh, Potter? I could have guessed you wouldn’t have the dignity to face me in a proper Wizard’s Duel. Let’s get on with it, then.” Draco felt awkward. He did not know how to go about physically attacking another person.

It seemed he didn’t need to worry much about it because Harry was on him within a second, pressing him roughly back against the door. Draco struggled against his captor, shoving at him roughly. They wrestled about, eventually finding their way to the floor.

Draco, caught securely under Harry, was able to snake his hand out of captivity and reached up for the first thing that grabbed his attention: Harry’s battle-loosened Gryffindor tie. The tie enthralled him. Loosened that way, he could see all of Harry’s throat. His hand wound around the tie, casting red and gold bruises around the neck before him. He didn’t even realise when he’d stopped tugging at the tie, losing focus, hand trembling. It was impossibly smooth on his hand and he didn’t have the sense to put up a fight when Harry tore the tie from his neck and roughly used it to tie Draco’s hands together, effectively ending the fight.

“I thought you always won,” Harry said cockily.

Draco came back to his senses when Harry spoke. He was honestly too comfortable to keep fighting, despite the circumstances. He was lying on his back on Harry’s floor, hands secured with a silky Gryffindor tie and the saviour of the wizarding world planted on top of him. He replied noncommittally, “Who says it’s over?”

Harry changed the subject. “Now I’ve got you where I want you, I think you should start listening to me. One, I am sorry that I assumed you were out to get me. I don’t think you can really blame me for that, though, considering you did hate me and tried to get me in trouble or killed throughout school. Two, I would like to get to know you as you are now. But I don’t want to do it if this is just some effort to pay me back for saving your arse during the battle. Three…. Are you listening to me?”

Draco’s eyes were closed and he had a rather pained look on his face. He was moving his wrists around, trying to get more glorious friction from the silk tie binding them. His mouth was open slightly, enough that the tip of his tongue caressing the side of his own upper lip was visible. Ever so slightly he began to wriggle his hips in his struggle for more sensation.

Draco felt a tugging sensation at his own tie and his eyes flew open, suddenly becoming aware again of his whereabouts. Harry was still on top of him, and, oh God, he was sliding the tie out of the shirt and across Draco’s skin. Over his throat and the smooth planes of his cheeks, the tie travelled a delectable path until it found its way securely around Harry’s neck.

“Don’t mind if I borrow this, do you?” Harry’s face was triumphant and Draco instantly decided that no one in the world had ever looked so good in a Slytherin tie.

Draco’s response was limited to a kind of ungraceful gulp and shook his head, to which Harry responded, “Good.” Then, “Is it safe to untie you now?”

Draco really wanted to say no, but nodded anyway. As Harry began fumbling with the tie about his wrists, Draco hissed in appreciation when the material slid across his hands and wrists and Harry’s fingers accidentally brushed against his evident arousal. A less proud man may have blushed, but Draco stared fully into Harry’s eyes, daring him to make a comment.

Instead of speaking, Harry simply took the red and gold tie and ran it up over Draco’s jaw, resting it on his lips. Draco could have killed himself for the whimper he let slip out. Harry’s face was almost malevolent, but too beautiful to be bad. Draco thought virginal Saint Potter should hesitate more, but then, his erection had given away the game.

Harry took one end of the Gryffindor tie and ghosted it over his own features. A cheekbone, his jaw, over to his mouth. He rubbed the thick end of the tie suggestively over his bottom lip. Draco tried to speak, to say something about the bizarre and beautiful scene before him, but found that he was immobilised by the intensity of his stimulation.

Even though Draco’s hands were free, he felt powerless to stop Harry’s definite descent. Pride told him he should not allow Harry to make the first move, but his wanton body did what it could to get more. Draco’s right hand came up and wound around his own tie about Harry’s neck, pulling him down, while the other found a spot on Harry’s back to hold on to.

Harry brought his mouth gently down to where Draco’s was hidden beneath the tie. Keeping bright green eyes open, he softly moved his mouth against Draco’s through the silky resistance. Draco’s response was immediate, tightening his fist further on the tie around Harry’s neck, a low growling sound escaping him. He used his tongue to pull the tie down further into his mouth and bit down on it, the need to feel Harry’s lips touching his skin overwhelming.

Harry lowered himself further, pressing his chest flush against Draco’s, crushing his hand awkwardly between them. The kiss was strained and difficult with the tie still in Draco’s mouth, but it was erotic as hell. Soon Harry brought his hand up and dragged the tie out from between Draco’s teeth, fisting it in one hand and Draco’s hair in the other.

Without the tie’s obstruction, the kiss was better than either could have imagined it would be, especially between two men with little experience in that department, and none with other men. They were content to explore each other in this very limited way, mouths on mouths and whatever other skin was near, each boy’s hands occupied with tie and hair.

After a while, Draco’s back started to ache from the hard floor, and Harry’s head filled with questions of, “What next?”

Just in time, a black kitten mewled from atop the curtains, breaking up their kiss. “All right, Drake, I’m coming,” Harry said, face fully flushed with interrupted arousal.

Draco lit up upon hearing the cat’s name. “You named him after me, did you?”

Harry looked at Draco half sheepishly, half predatorily. The look suited him very well, Draco thought. The lamb offering itself for the slaughter and the lion claiming its prey. Very heroic. Very Gryffindor.

“You said I could, didn’t you?” Harry’s smile gleamed with intention.

Draco noted the way Harry was still grasping the Gryffindor-coloured tie and saw his own tie hanging loosely from his neck.

Harry noticed and said, “You know, I never knew you had a thing about ties.”

“God, neither did I,” Draco said as Harry plopped Drake in his lap. “Little fellow’s fond of me.”

“Well, you did pick him out,” Harry said. Suddenly reminded of how the evening’s events had taken place he commented, “Really, Draco. A kitten? You’ve the strangest ways of making amends.”

“You’re right. I should have just burst in here, tied you up and snogged you until you liked me.”

Harry grinned mischievously and asked, “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Rather comment on LiveJournal? Join the conversation[here](http://teprometo.livejournal.com/6544.html#comments).**


End file.
